September 20th, 1693.
For the first time since his return to Elysee, Bruno allowed himself a moment to breathe. The war was over. The Republic was crushed, and the military had sworn loyalty to him. The nation was stabilizing, and his authority was absolute. It was only right that the moment be commemorated.
The grand halls of the Royal Palace were alive once more, illuminated by chandeliers whose golden glow reflected off the polished marble floors. The palace had seen nothing but war councils and military officers in the past months, but tonight, it was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses.
A grand banquet had been arranged, a symbolic gesture to mark the return of order to Elysea. Nobles who had survived the Republic's purges attended in lavish garments, their colors bright, their jewels glittering. Military officers, now loyal to the new regime, stood among them, less accustomed to the revelry but nonetheless partaking in the evening's festivities.
